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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823780">Learning Important Things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertainIdeas/pseuds/CertainIdeas'>CertainIdeas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Exhibitionism, Extremely Underage, F/M, Public Masturbation, Public Transportation, Sexual Experimentation, Shotacon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:35:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertainIdeas/pseuds/CertainIdeas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steven likes playing with himself on the bus. A passenger who takes a shine to him sees his curiosity as the perfect opportunity to broaden his horizons, little by little.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Learning Important Things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just something I thought up while bored. I like exhibitionism, and I like shotacon, so the two go together pretty well in my mind. The first time I'm trying to write from the perspective of the kid, so any critiques would be greatly appreciated.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I got on the bus, giving the bus driver a little wave. He waved back and smiled at me, but it didn’t look very real. That was fine. Mr Gad was a nice man, even if he looked a little sad most days. He let me ride the bus to my Mommy’s work after school, even though he told me it was dangerous. I sometimes saw him watching me, when I looked at the front of the bus, with a funny expression on his face.</p>
<p>I think he was lonely. I’d never seen him talk to someone, ever since I met him. I needed to remember to buy him a card. Better yet, I could make one for him. I was sure that would cheer him up, at least for a little while.</p>
<p>I went through the aisle, greeting the grownups when they looked at me. Some didn’t look at me, even when I got close. They just kept ignoring me, playing with their phones. Mommy said that was rude. I didn’t frown when I passed them, but I did feel a little unhappy that there were so many rude people. Maybe their mommies didn’t teach them how to be polite.</p>
<p>I picked a seat right at the back. It was comfy, and there were more seats here than anywhere else. I let out a happy sigh when I sat down. I liked how the cushion was soft against my bottom, but not so much that I sank in. It was like Goldilocks, like we learned last year, in kindergarten. Not too soft, not too hard. Just right.</p>
<p>I liked bus cushions. They were the best ones.</p>
<p>I waited a little bit, looking out the window as people walked by the bus. There was a man with a surfboard in his yard, putting it on top of his car. I didn’t know who he was, but he must’ve been cool. Surfers are all really cool people. I remember seeing a movie once, with a lot of surfers on humungous waves. They talked funny, when they weren’t surfing, saying things like ‘sha’ and ‘tubular’ and ‘radical.’</p>
<p>I tried saying the same words afterwards, to show Mommy how cool I was. She laughed at me, and I felt embarrassed, but a little happy. I liked seeing Mommy smile. She told me afterwards that I didn’t need to say those words to be cool. She said I was the coolest kid she knew. I hugged her in bed that night, when she was just going to sleep. Mommy is the best mom ever.</p>
<p>Surfers were still really cool, though. Mommy just thought I was cooler.</p>
<p>A guy and a girl walked past, holding hands, and I waved at them. The guy gave me a weird smile, one that only went up on one side of his face. The girl laughed when I smiled at them through the window, but she waved back. I waved again, and kept on doing it until I couldn’t see them anymore, when they walked around a corner.</p>
<p>She was polite. Her mommy must’ve been almost as good as mine.</p>
<p>The bus started moving, and I squirmed in my seat, trying to find my comfy spot. It was a way of sitting that made my legs feel good, without the pins and needles. It was also good for something else, but I couldn’t do it until I’d found the comfy spot.</p>
<p>I found it after a while, with my legs spread on the seat, my feet almost reaching the ground. Mommy said they weren’t that close yet, but I knew she was wrong. My legs were long enough to reach the ground, almost. Soon I’d be even taller than the house!</p>
<p>Mommy didn’t think so, but I knew I would. I’d be a giant, and she could ride on me to work instead of taking our old car with the broken door handle and the wonky fuel meter.</p>
<p>The bus was going faster, and I started getting excited. The bumps against my bottom were making my wee feel funny, like it always did. When Mommy was with me, I had to pretend everything was fine. Now, I was alone, so I could do something with it.</p>
<p>I put my hands over my zipper and held them there, peeking around the seat in front of me to see if anyone was looking at me. I knew nobody was supposed to see my wee, so I made sure to hide it from people. Mommy said it was very rude to let other people see it, even ruder than not greeting people. That’s why we wore clothes, to make sure people didn’t see our privates.</p>
<p>I believed her, since she was always right, but I couldn’t help it. It felt so nice to take it out when people were around. I knew it was naughty, but thinking about that just made it feel better. I didn’t know why. I knew I couldn’t let Mommy know, so I did this only when I knew she wouldn’t find out.</p>
<p>I quietly unzipped my pants, pulling the front part of my undies down and grabbing my wee. It was soft and warm, like a little marshmallow. I reached under it to feel my balls, the squishy little bag where Mommy said they were kept safe. She didn’t like me calling them balls, but she hadn’t given me another name when I’d asked for one, so I just kept using it.</p>
<p>I held the front part of my undies away from my wee and lifted my balls, then put my undies back down under them. My balls were outside my pants now, my wee sitting on top of them like a cute little worm on a ball.</p>
<p>It always made me want to laugh a little, how funny they looked together. I didn’t, because someone might look if I did, and then they would tell Mommy, and she would be unhappy with me. She might even send me for a time out. I didn’t want that, so I was always careful.</p>
<p>I looked out from behind the seat again, seeing if anyone was looking at me. Nobody was, so I got back behind it and started playing.</p>
<p>I put my hand on my wee and moved it up and down gently, stroking it like a pet cat. It felt very nice, like being tickled by Mommy. I couldn’t make myself feel nice like that when I tickled myself, but I could when I did this.</p>
<p>I looked out the window while I stroked my wee, seeing the people outside as we drove past them. I wondered what they would do if they saw me doing this. Most of them would probably be mad, since I was being rude and naughty, but some of them might like it. Maybe they would think my wee was cute, too. Maybe they would want to see it more. Maybe they would even like to feel it. I’d like to share this with someone, but I didn’t have any friends who wouldn’t tell on me. Their parents all told them the same things as my Mommy, so I was careful to make sure they didn’t find out.</p>
<p>My wee started getting harder, lifting up by itself. I kept stroking, moving my hand faster as it got bigger. I took my other hand and started feeling my balls, making a cup with my hand and putting them in it, moving them around by wiggling my fingers. It always felt nice, doing that. I had to be gentle, because it hurt to do it too hard, but if I pressed softly it felt so good.</p>
<p>The bus started slowing down again, and I looked out the window while I played with my wee. I didn’t want to wave right now, because then I’d have to stop playing with myself, so I moved back in my seat to make myself harder to see. I was going to be a giant one day, but I was small right now. That made hiding easier, so I liked it. Mommy never found me when we played hide and seek.</p>
<p>A few people got off the bus, all of them in front of me. None of the people who stood up looked back when they got up, so I looked back down and kept stroking my wee. I swished my balls around a little more than before. I liked feeling them slide over each other. It made it easier to get to the good feeling, right at the end. It made it feel even better when it came.</p>
<p>I heard someone walking closer, and I looked up again. There was a thin black lady in a purple sweater coming closer to the back of the bus. I thought she was going to sit in a seat ahead, since she was looking at one while she walked, but she passed it and started looking around some more.</p>
<p>She stopped looking around when she saw me. She stared at me as she came closer with a little smile on her face. It made me nervous. I started to think that she wanted to sit next to me. That wasn’t good.</p>
<p>
  <i>She’ll see if I try to put my wee away now. I can’t be sneaky when I do that. My zipper makes it too difficult to do quickly.</i>
</p>
<p>I stopped stroking my wee and put my hands over it, trying to hide it. It was still sticking out of my pants, but I hadn’t pulled them down at all. They were still on, just unzipped, with my undies bunched up under my balls. I was good at hiding, so maybe I could hide my wee if I just kept it covered.</p>
<p>She sat down next to me, giving me a smile. “Hello there. How are you?”</p>
<p>I smiled back, but it wasn’t a real one. I was too worried. That made me unhappy, because I should’ve been giving her a real smile. It was mean to smile fake at someone.</p>
<p>I remembered what Mommy had told me to say to people when they greeted me like that. “I’m fine, thank you ma’am. How are you?”</p>
<p>“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” She looked down at the seat. “You don’t mind me sitting next to you, do you?”</p>
<p>I shook my head. It wasn’t polite to tell people to go away when they were being friendly. “No, I like sitting next to people, especially nice ones.”</p>
<p>Her smile got a little bigger. “You think I’m nice?”</p>
<p>I nodded. “You greeted me without me greeting you first. Usually it’s that I have to greet first, because grownups ignore me if I don’t get their attention. Mommy says it’s because I’m a quiet boy.”</p>
<p>“Aw, how could they ignore someone as handsome as you?”</p>
<p>I felt nice when she said that. My face started getting a little hot. “Thank you, ma’am. You’re also very pretty.”</p>
<p>“Such a gentleman. I’ll bet all the girls are swooning already.”</p>
<p>I didn’t know what swooning was, but it sounded like a good thing. “My Mommy’s teaching me to be a gentleman. She says being polite is very important, that I’ll impress people because I’m so good.”</p>
<p>“Well, she’s definitely right. I’m very impressed with you.” She looked down on my lap. “Especially with how brave you are.”</p>
<p>I looked down at my lap, very confused. I didn’t see anything that made me brave there, just my hands covering my wee. I looked back up at her with a frown.</p>
<p>“What you’re doing right now, it’s very brave,” she said, nodding her head at my lap. “I wish I could be that daring.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” I asked.</p>
<p>“I mean what you have under your hands. Most men aren’t courageous enough to get their… things out in public, so I’m very impressed that you’ve done it.”</p>
<p>I had to think about what she meant by ‘things,’ but I got very nervous when I understood. She knew what I was doing. “But I’m hiding it. How did you see my wee?”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t worry. You’re doing a very good job at hiding it, so I didn’t see it at all. But,” she said, putting up a finger, “your hands aren’t flat on your lap. They’re cupped, like there’s something under them. Also,” she said, smirking like Mommy told me not to because it was cheeky, “you didn’t hide your zipper, so I can see that your pants are undone.”</p>
<p>I looked down, seeing what she was saying. She was right. I didn’t think she’d be so smart, so I hadn’t hidden all that stuff, but she’d seen it. I looked back up, my eyes wide. “Are you a detective? Are you going to tell on me?”</p>
<p>She frowned, moving back a bit. “No, I’m not a police officer. And, even if I were, why would I get you in trouble for this? It’s just a little bit of harmless fun.”</p>
<p>I looked down, embarrassed. When Mommy found out about this, she would be very unhappy. I didn’t like it when she got cross. “Because Mommy told me not to show my wee to anyone, ever.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Well, I don’t think she meant it like that. More likely, she just meant that there are certain conditions to you showing your wee to someone.”</p>
<p>I thought about what she was saying, but I wasn’t sure I understood. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“I mean that she probably told you not to show your wee to people because most people don’t like seeing them. But that doesn’t mean that everyone dislikes it.”</p>
<p>“Really?” This was something Mommy hadn’t ever told me.</p>
<p>“Really. Some people really like seeing wees, or penises.”</p>
<p>“Peesnis— peezni— pins… can you please say it again?” I asked, a little embarrassed I couldn’t say it right.</p>
<p>She laughed softly. “A penis—” she said the word slowly, so I could hear how to say it right— “is what you call a wee, but it’s the grownup name for it. Just like the grownup word for the thing girls have at that spot is the vulva.”</p>
<p>I thought about that word. “You mean girls don’t have… penises, like boys do?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no. That’s part of what makes girls, girls and boys, boys. Us girls have different things down there, and women have extra things up here,” she said, pointing to her breasts.</p>
<p>I nodded. “I know about those. Mommy says milk comes out of those when a mom has a baby. They’re called breasts, or boobs if you want to be funny.”</p>
<p>She nodded, looking very proud of me. “That’s right! You’re so smart.”</p>
<p>I puffed out my chest a little, feeling nice thanks to the good things she was saying about me. My hands slipped a little, and I quickly put them back on top of my… penis. My face felt hot again.</p>
<p>She looked at me, frowning a little, then looked up for a bit. When she looked at me again, she said, “Please forgive my rudeness. I completely forgot to ask your name earlier.”</p>
<p>I nodded a little, trying not to move too much so my hands didn’t slip again. “It’s okay. I’m Steven.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, that’s a very nice name. I’m Ursa.”</p>
<p>“That’s a pretty name. I like it.”</p>
<p>Ursa smiled, looking down at my hands again. “Steven, how would you like to play a game?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” I said, also looking down at my lap. “I can’t move my hands, so playing some games will be difficult.”</p>
<p>Ursa laughed. “Oh, but that’s the thing. This is a game I used to play when I was about your age. It’s called ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’”</p>
<p>I blinked. “That’s a long name.”</p>
<p>“It is. Would you like to hear the rules?” I nodded, so she kept going. “They’re actually very easy to remember. We take turns showing the other person pieces of ourselves, then they have to show us that same piece on themselves. There are no winners or losers in this one — it’s just meant to be a little bit of fun for all the players to enjoy.”</p>
<p>I thought about it. “That does sound like a nice game. Losing makes me unhappy, sometimes.”</p>
<p>She nodded. “Me too. So, would you like to play with me? We can just try one round for now, to see if you like it.”</p>
<p>I thought about it, then nodded. “I will. But I need to put my penis back in my pants first.”</p>
<p>Ursa made a thinking noise. “Well, actually, that’s what I was going to ask you to show me, since you have it out already.”</p>
<p>I frowned. “But I’m not supposed to show that to people.”</p>
<p>“To people who don’t like it, sure. It would be very rude to do that, and you shouldn’t show your penis to them if they don’t ask. But I’d love to see yours, Steven. I really like how they look, and I’d bet yours looks amazing.”</p>
<p>I was a little surprised at how excited she seemed to be to see it. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. Trust me, there’s little I’d like more right now.”</p>
<p>I licked my lips, thinking. “You won’t tell my Mommy, will you?”</p>
<p>Ursa used a finger to draw on her chest. “Cross my heart. I promise not to tell your Mommy about this, okay?”</p>
<p>I thought about that for a bit. I wasn’t sure if she was right about the rules, since Mommy had never said I could show people who wanted to see, before. But Ursa was a lady, just like Mommy, so maybe she knew how Mommy thought about things. Maybe that’s what Mommy had meant when she’d said that, but she didn’t know that I was confused.</p>
<p>Also, I noticed that thinking about showing Ursa my penis was making me excited, like doing it on the bus, but even more. It was getting hard under my hands. It felt a little sore to keep it under there, squished down. I wanted to let it out.</p>
<p>I was a little scared, but I decided to do it. It might be fun, and Ursa had been very friendly. If she was asking so nicely, I thought it might be mean to say no.</p>
<p>“Okay. I’ll show it to you.”</p>
<p>She smiled at me, rubbing my shoulder with her hand. I pressed against it. It felt very nice. “That makes me so happy, Steven. I’ll even show you mine afterwards as a reward, if you’re interested.”</p>
<p>I nodded, then slowly moved my fingers, letting my penis point up like a little tower on my lap. It stopped feeling squashed, and it twitched a little bit when it was standing up fully.</p>
<p>Ursa gasped, looking very happy. “Oh, that’s beautiful, Steven! It’s so cute!”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” She put a finger out, moving it towards my penis, but she stopped before she got there, looking at me. “Would it be okay for me to touch it?”</p>
<p>I looked up, thinking. The game was called… something about showing. I can’t remember anything about touching in its name. But, she was asking nicely, and I didn’t think she’d do anything bad to me if I let her touch it. I looked at her and nodded.</p>
<p>She smiled wide, then grabbed my penis. It was very gentle. Her skin was so soft. “This feels amazing, Steven. You must wash it a lot. It’s so clean.”</p>
<p>“Thank you. I wash it a lot in the bath. Mommy tells me it’s important to keep everything clean, even the things people can’t see.”</p>
<p>“Well, your Mommy is a very smart woman for telling you that.” She touched close to the tip, and it felt really good. My penis jumped in her hand, and she gasped. “Wow! Did you do that on purpose?”</p>
<p>I shook my head. “It moves by itself, sometimes, especially when it gets stiff.” I was quiet for a little bit, then said, “Sometimes I can even pee without holding it, when it’s hard.”</p>
<p>Ursa said, “That’s impressive. Do you pee standing up?” I nodded. “Lucky. I wish girls could do that.”</p>
<p>I frowned. “Girls can’t pee standing up?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “No. We— oh, actually, it’s my turn to show you, isn’t it? I can just explain it then.”</p>
<p>She moved so the middle of her legs was facing me, one leg on her seat, then lifted her skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties. That was weird. Mommy always wore panties, even when she just got out of the bathroom.</p>
<p>She didn’t have a penis there. I looked closer, thinking maybe I was missing it, but there wasn’t anything, just a red thing that looked like thin lips where it was supposed to be.</p>
<p>I looked up at her. “Where’s your penis?”</p>
<p>She snorted. “Remember how I told you that girls don’t have penises? Well, this slit is called a vulva, and the red things are labia. It’s what we have instead.”</p>
<p>I tried to imagine her peeing from that, but I couldn’t. “How do you use the toilet?”</p>
<p>She put her hand on her vulva, then moved her fingers apart. Suddenly, her labia spread open, and I could see two holes in there, one on top and one underneath. They were both very wet. “Through this,” she said, pointing to the top hole, the smaller one. “It’s where my pee comes from, like how yours comes from the tip of your penis.”</p>
<p>If she had two, did she poop out of the other one? “What’s the other hole for?”</p>
<p>“That’s called the vagina. It’s the fun hole.” She stopped talking and thought for a little bit. “Do you know how to make yourself feel good with your penis?”</p>
<p>I nodded. “I was doing that before you came.”</p>
<p>Her eyebrows went up. “I’m impressed. Most boys don’t discover that until later.” She pointed at her vagina. “Anyway, that’s what I do with this one. Just like you stroke your penis until it feels good, I can do the same thing by touching my vagina and putting things inside it.” She moved a finger down to press against it, making a small, funny sound while her finger slid around it. She took her finger off, wet and shiny, and wiped it on her skirt, then said, “You let me touch yours, so it’s only fair if I let you touch mine. Would you like to?”</p>
<p>I looked down at her vagina, then back up at her. “Really?”</p>
<p>She nodded, smiling gently at me. I slowly reached out with a hand and pressed it against her vagina, feeling how wet and soft it was. She made a small sound, holding a hand against her tummy. I pulled mine back.</p>
<p>“Sorry! Did I hurt you?” I asked.</p>
<p>She shook her head quickly, her face red. “No, Steven. you didn’t hurt me at all. In fact, that felt really good.”</p>
<p>I nodded, looking at my hand. It was all wet with something that looked like water, but it felt different. I sniffed it, but I didn’t recognize the smell. I asked Ursa, “What is this stuff? Is it pee?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “No, that’s just something that comes out of the vagina when I know that I’m about to feel good. It’s slippery, to make it easier to put things in without them hurting me.”</p>
<p>I was going to ask something else, but I felt the bus slowing down. I looked out, and saw that we were getting to my stop.</p>
<p>I wiped her wetness off on my shirt and looked back at her. “I have to go. This is where my Mommy works.</p>
<p>Ursa looked a little unhappy. “Aw, do you have to?”</p>
<p>“Did you still want to talk?”</p>
<p>She nodded, dropping her skirt to cover herself again. “There was a lot more I wanted to show you. We didn’t even get to any of the really fun parts yet.”</p>
<p>I thought as I stood and did my pants back up, trying to figure out what I could do. I didn’t want Ursa to be unhappy. “I ride the bus almost every day, to get to my Mommy’s work after school. Maybe you can come every day, too.”</p>
<p>She smiled, but it wasn’t as big as her other ones. “Maybe. The problem is, I only came on the bus today because I’ve got shopping to do. I don’t do that every day.”</p>
<p>I thought even harder, trying to come up with something that would work. I couldn’t think of anything, and that made me a little sad. I liked talking to Ursa. She was a friendly grownup, and she’d shown me new things I hadn’t known about before. I wanted to see her again, but I didn’t know how.</p>
<p>“Maybe we can be friends,” I said. “Friends see each other a lot and do things together. Then you wouldn’t only see me when you’re doing the shopping.”</p>
<p>She tilted her head, frowning at me. “You want to be my friend?”</p>
<p>I nodded. “Girls can be annoying, and most of them don’t want to be my friend. I don’t want it, either, because they scream a lot and don’t play fun games. But you do, so I’d like to be friends with you.”</p>
<p>She smiled, taking my hand with hers. “I’d like that, Steven. Thank you for the offer.”</p>
<p>I nodded, but before I could leave while the bus was stopping, she asked me one more thing. “Steven, could you promise me something, quickly? I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone about what we were doing, okay?”</p>
<p>I frowned. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Because I could get in a lot of trouble. Grownups don’t like it when other grownups show children things like what I showed you. They think you’re too young to be able to enjoy all that.”</p>
<p>That didn’t make any sense to me. “But I liked it. Playing with you was fun, and I even got to learn new words and things about girls.”</p>
<p>“I know you liked it. It was a lot of fun for me, too, and I hope we can do even more next time. Unfortunately, most grownups don’t think the same way. They’d say I’m as bad as someone who kills people, or someone who kidnaps children and does horrible things to them. I’d go to prison for a long time if anyone found out about what we did here.”</p>
<p>I felt a little angry, thinking that Ursa would get in such big trouble for playing with me. “That’s so silly! You didn’t hurt me at all.”</p>
<p>Ursa laughed a little. “I know. But they wouldn’t care about that. They’re ridiculous rules, but they’ll still get me in a lot of trouble if anyone ever finds out. So, do you promise?”</p>
<p>I nodded. “I promise.”</p>
<p>She smiled. “Thank you. Have a good day, Steven.”</p>
<p>I waved at her as I walked away, to the front of the bus. “Bye, Ursa.”</p>
<p>I passed Mr Gad on my way out, and waved at him as well. He gave me a small wave back, before the doors closed.</p>
<p>I watched the bus driving away. I saw Ursa in the window, waving at me as she rode away. I wondered when I was going to see her again. I wondered whether she would show me anything new then.</p>
<p>I hoped so.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There you have it. If you liked this and you feel like leaving a comment, maybe you could tell me what you enjoyed. If you didn't like it at all, I'd appreciate the critique.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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